


Cupid

by gleefulmusings



Series: Tickle My Fancy [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Best Friends, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mild Language, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-02-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleefulmusings/pseuds/gleefulmusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Santana, unimpressed with Blaine, visits Dalton to arrange Kurt's love life. Sue tags along. Minor Kurtana.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cupid

Kurt was barely managing to keep his eyes from rolling as he fell into step and mouthed the backing vocals to Blaine's latest masturbatory fantasy that he was, in fact, Katy Perry. He had found that no one else even noticed that he wasn't bothering to sing, which was a little disconcerting. Still, it also gave him a sense of power, like he had mastered the art of faking the orgasm or something.

He wondered if he should share his opinion that Blaine's dancing skills were somewhere between that of Finn and a toaster oven. He finally decided that it wouldn't be welcome news, but the truth was always hard to hear.

He didn't understand how he'd ever thought himself in love with Blaine. It was fairly clear that there was only room in Blaine's life for Blaine himself. Sure, Blaine was a nice guy, but he was more interested in how others perceived him than he was in being an actual person. He was a lot like Finn that way, which just brought up all kinds of gross comparisons that he really could've done without.

He repressed a sigh and, not for the first time, wished he was closer to his other Warblers. Many thought he had transferred to Dalton to be with Blaine, which was not only ridiculous, but offensive. He would never do something so rash and expensive just to enter the orbit of a crush. It hadn't helped that Blaine had been a little possessive of him ever since he had arrived.

Actually, that was putting it mildly. Blaine had all put blazing orange cones around Kurt's person to ward off potential loiterers. Any time Kurt began a conversation with one of the other boys, Blaine eagerly stepped in to take over or to spirit Kurt away for coffee. Kurt knew it frustrated the others, particularly Wes and David, and that they were most frustrated that Kurt himself always meekly deferred to Blaine.

It was like Blaine had peed on him and marked Kurt Hummel as his.

Kurt didn't understand why he checked his backbone around Blaine. He had never acted like such a nervous, spineless lackwit, even when the insanity with Karofsky was at its height, so why was he doing it now? Blaine wasn't interested in him - that was patently obvious - and even if that weren't the case, Kurt didn't want to be the type of person who altered themselves and became entirely different when their potential significant other was around.

As much as he disliked Rachel, he gave her credit for not hiding her boatload of crazy from Finn. In fact, his presence only seemed to aggravate her lunacy. It was nice when two escaped mental patients found love, he supposed. He hoped their future was bright and contained lots of lithium.

Wow. Blaine really was short. It struck Kurt as odd that he found Blaine appealing. He had always been attracted to boys who were taller than him. Of course, he was now fairly tall himself. He would never be the mighty sequoia that Finn was, but he was now able to look Puck in the eye. Part of his attraction to taller guys was that he had felt safe with them, like he was protected. Then those episodes with Karofsky had happened. He wondered if that had turned him off jocks forever.

Kurt didn't understand his attraction to Blaine at all. Sure, Blaine was very cute, but he looked like a Keebler Elf with baby vampire teeth and a Brillo pad for hair.

He couldn't even posit the eyebrow situation.

And it was all fine, but Blaine just wasn't the type of guy he had pictured himself with. Blaine had a terrific voice, but Kurt thought Artie's was better. Blaine was masculine, certainly much more than Kurt himself was, and could probably pass as straight; Kurt never could, but then he didn't really want to, even if he thought it might sometimes be easier. Blaine was very dominating, which was something Kurt had always believed he would find comforting, but instead just found suffocating and obnoxious.

Had he just latched on to Blaine as a port in the storm? Because if he had, it was a horrible thing to have done. He couldn't expect another to bear his burdens, and it was unfair of him to demand that Blaine fix what ailed his life. Of course, there was also the fact that despite that Blaine gave off an officious and knowledgeable air, he was just as clueless as any other boy their age and gave the worst advice ever. But Kurt had taken that advice, without debating its merits with anyone else, and therefore the results were no one's fault but his own.

He should have never confronted Karofsky; it was merely the opening for which the other boy had been looking. He should have trusted Mr. Schuester and Coach Sylvester with the truth of what Karofsky had done to him; he knew they would have cared, even if his friends wouldn't have. He had been too hasty in transferring to Dalton. The school was nice enough and he did feel safe, but other than the challenging curriculum which he secretly adored, he wasn't enjoying his time there. He had no real friends other than Blaine, and every time he spoke with someone from McKinley, he was sharply reminded that he no longer fit in there.

He didn't fit in anywhere.

He hadn't known it was possible for him to be more lonely, yet he was. He missed his friends.

Then the door was thrown open and a devil in a red cheerleading uniform sauntered in.

* * *

 

Kurt said nothing as Santana strolled up to the stage, ascended the stairs, and eye-fucked every boy in the vicinity. Finally, she stood before him.

"Bellatrix," he said in a neutral voice.

She smirked up at him as she stared deeply into his eyes. "Homolicious," she purred. "You look good."

"Naturally."

She conceded his point with a nod.

"To what do I owe this unparalleled honor?"

She gave a mild shrug and looked around innocently, fooling everyone but Kurt himself. "Sylvester is running amok around campus, terrifying the Hogwarts staff, so I thought I'd check in and see how things were going. I've kept abreast of the latest developments, but I really had to see them for myself." She cocked her head. "So which one of these Dead Poets Society rejects is Fairy Potter?"

Blaine smiled winningly and gave a small wave.

Santana curled a lip and looked back to Kurt, silently demanding an explanation. His returning look clearly indicated that he had no idea.

She shook her head. "That won't do at all." She blinked. "Oh, by the way."

He raised a brow, but the words on his lips died as she grabbed the lapels of his blazer and pulled him into a searing kiss. His minimal protest segued into a long, guttural groan as he closed his eyes, yanked sharply on her ponytail, and shoved his tongue into her mouth. She squealed her approval and hooked a slender leg around his ridiculously tiny waist.

The other Warblers had absolutely no idea what was going on, who the foxy lady was, or what to do about the situation, so they merely stood by and watched, some of them quite avidly.

Blaine blinked. "What?"

But Kurt and Santana continued unabated. Just as it looked as though someone would have to fetch some scuba gear or a fire extinguisher, Kurt viciously tweaked a nipple and Santana shrieked her kudos, inadvertently tearing her mouth from Kurt's own.

"I missed you," she whispered.

He smirked. "You never wrote."

She shrugged, pulled out a lipstick from only God knew where, and reapplied. "You never answer my sexts."

"There are only so many hours in a day. How is everyone?"

"Do you really care?"

"No, but you can tell them I asked."

"Manners are important," she agreed.

"How would you know?"

"Touché."

"Now," he continued, clearing his throat, "what can I do for you?"

Her smirk was filthy.

"Besides that."

She pouted spectacularly and finally sighed. "I really did just want to make sure you were okay. We worry, you know."

"I know," he said softly, intertwining their fingers. "I missed you, too."

"Um, Kurt?" Blaine interrupted, his voice small and confused.

Santana watched through a narrowed gaze as her best friend's face blanked and the light in his eyes dimmed. She didn't know Blaine, but that didn't stop her from despising him. He had stolen her Rainbow and made Brittany cry. Those were capital offenses. She decided to express her displeasure.

"So you're Bland," she greeted.

__"Blaine," he forcefully corrected, smiling all the while._ _

___"I was referencing your personality."_ _ _

____He didn't know how to respond to that, or to his friends' resulting chuckles, so he said nothing._ _ _ _

_____She began prowling around, dragging Kurt with her. Finally she deposited him next to Blaine, cocked her head, considered them, and sighed._ _ _ _ _

"This isn't going to work."

She again dragged Kurt away, leaving a dumbfounded Blaine in her wake. She next pushed Kurt up against another Warbler.

 ________"________ You're Nick?"

The terrified boy nodded.

She looked at Kurt. "You were right. He's adorable."

Nick blushed and looked down at the floor, a small smile on his face.

"There are benefits to fucking your roommate," she told them. "The two of you together would be hot. The hits on Xtube alone could bring in lots of revenue."

"It could also cause warrants to be issued for our arrests," Kurt countered. "Child pornography is a serious crime."

She shrugged. "True enough. And if it didn't work out, you would still have to live together. Things could get sticky, and not in the awesome way that sheets can get sticky."

Kurt nodded. Nick swallowed heavily.

"You could still make out, though," she insisted.

"We could do that!" Nick cheerfully agreed.

Kurt gave him the side-eye and a hard appraisal.

"What?" asked a panicked Blaine.

"Let's see what the rest of the assortment this box of eye candy has to offer." With that, she again pulled Kurt away and threw him at Jeff, whose arms instantly wrapped around Kurt to steady him.

Kurt blushed lightly and Jeff smiled at him.

"Not bad," Santana said, nodding. "I'd definitely be interested in purchasing tickets to this show."

"Standing room only," Jeff volleyed.

"Witty too," she said. "Or what passes for wit around here. I doubt you're up to Rainbow's level of verbal slaughter."

"Few are," Jeff said ruefully.

She looked at Kurt. "At least he acknowledges his betters. He can be trained."

"He's not a puppy, darling," Kurt scolded.

"Does that mean you don't want to spank him?"

"What part of my statement conveyed that idea?"

Jeff held Kurt tighter against him.

"He's blond," she said quietly.

Kurt stiffened. "I know."

"He's asked about you. A lot."

Kurt looked away.

"Sam?" Blaine demanded. "Sam doesn't even know him!"

Santana glared at him. "And you do? Bitch, please. You haven't even scratched the surface. Now shut up before I reach into your face hole, rip out your vocal cords, and strangle you with them."

He shuddered and fell silent.

"Is she single?" Jeff whispered to Kurt.

"At the moment," Kurt murmured, "but what about us? Are you over me already?"

Jeff grinned. "Threesome?"

"I'm not opposed to that idea."

"Awesome."

"Thanks for playing along," Kurt said softly.

"Not playing. I like you, Kurt. I want you to be happy. All of us do. We could just never get you away from Blaine long enough to tell you that."

Kurt rubbed Jeff's hand tenderly. "Thank you."

Santana dragged him away yet again, giving Jeff flirty eyes. He winked back. She pushed Kurt at David. She shook her head. "Like Aretha, but with less balls."

"Santana," Kurt hissed.

"Hey," she shrugged, "if you want to get your Mandingo on, I'm certainly not going to stop you. David here is a hot piece. I wouldn't mind a round or two myself. Perhaps on monkey bars or in a church confessional."

David's eyes glazed.

"But you two would never work, Rainbow," she told Kurt. "You need an equal. You need someone who's both intelligent and an intellectual. You need someone who understands your bitchery because they're a huge bitch themselves. You need someone who can stand up to you and who won't placate you to shut you up. You need someone talented and driven, but whose desire to succeed fuels your own, rather than holding you back or oppressing you. You need someone equally as hot as you so that I'm not put off while I'm fapping."

"A tall order, indeed," he acknowledged.

"Not really. In fact, there's only person for the job." She turned and smiled evilly. "Hello, Wesley. How's your gavel?"

Wes blinked. "Rigid and weighty."

Her eyes lighted. "I like him. He knows how to play this game."

"Santana," Kurt whispered.

She opened her mouth was beaten to the punch as Wes pushed her out of the way, grabbed Kurt, and pressed a scorching kiss to his lips.

"Outstanding," Santana purred.

Several of the Warblers cheered. Blaine did not.

Kurt finally pulled away, albeit reluctantly. "Wes?"

"I've wanted you from the moment your sweet ass strolled in here to spy," Wes growled. "I thought I had you figured out, that if I treated you like Chola Barbie over there does, you'd get it." He swallowed nervously. "I didn't realize you also needed someone to treat you like the amazing guy you are. I'm sorry it took me so long to put it together."

Kurt ran his tongue over his swollen, pink lips, making Wes pant with excitement. "You don't have to do this."

"I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't try."

Kurt smiled shyly and ducked his head.

Blaine's mouth opened and closed several times in confusion and consternation, though he held his silence.

The door was once again thrown open and a velociraptor in a track suit stormed inside.

"Porcelain!"

"Good afternoon, Coach." He cocked his head. "I approve of your new track suit. The color brings out the rage in your eyes."

She preened. "Pay attention, Porcelain. I've performed a thorough search of this institution and offer it a preliminary Sue Seal of Approval. The academics are overblown but adequate, much like those teased follicles Endora insists is a hairstyle. However, I'm very concerned about the lack of physical activity."

"Dalton offers various sports, with both sponsored and intramural teams!" Blaine protested.

Sue looked down her nose at the offending Monchichi. "Did I take a wrong turn and end up in the Shire?"

Santana and Kurt did an excellent job of not laughing.

"Never speak to me again without permission," Sue barked at Blaine, "which will never be granted, because your hair looks like that suspicious mass that was clogging my drain last week. And to think that, for once, William was not responsible. Shave it off and start over."

She turned back to the rest of her adoring audience. "Sport is merely a monosyllabic euphemism for cheerleading. This school has no squad. Clearly it is un-American, and I will be conducting inquiries with Homeland Security."

Kurt nodded as if this made complete sense.

"Have you kept up with your routines?" she howled at him.

He raised a brow, gently pushed himself away from Wes, and then launched into a dizzying series of flips, somersaults, roundoffs, and cartwheels, all while holding a note which the others realized was a High A over C. Kurt performed it in full voice and sustained it for over a minute.

Sue grudgingly nodded. "Acceptable. Now, what about your pathetic love life?"

Kurt executed a series of back flips and landed once again at Wes's side, beaming at him.

"So you've got yourself a Gaysian," Sue surmised. "You could do worse. He'll probably help boost the math portion of your SATs. Just make sure that when you go out on your little excursions, you do all the driving. Also, chopsticks are for sissies."

Kurt nodded solemnly. "Noted."

"Excellent." She paused. "Your happiness matters. Not to me, but to other people."

"Understood."

She nodded. "Outstanding." She turned toward Santana. "Lopez! Let's get going. The stench of weakened testosterone and pretension is making me nauseous. Either that, or I'm pregnant. Regardless, if I don't get out of here immediately, something will die bloody."

She barreled right out of the door, with Santana hot on her heels, blowing Kurt a kiss and miming a blowjob.

"What the hell was that?" Nick wondered.

"That was Sue Sylvester," Kurt said.

"I thought she was just an urban legend," David whimpered.

Kurt shook his head. "She's real and, like poly-cotton blend, terrifying."

"You're very flexible," Wes purred.

"I can put my legs behind my head."

"This is the beginning of a beautiful relationship."


End file.
